10 Things That Bite About You
by Dead Pan Contest
Summary: Pam takes a fancy to a young man who is only allowed to date if his sister does and persuades her maker to help her out.


**The Dead Pan Contest**

**10 THINGS THAT BITE ABOUT YOU**

**Story/movie parodied: ****10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU**

**Characters: Eric, Sookie, Pam, Jason, Gran, Bill**

**Disclaimer:** These characters in this fiction are the creation of Charlaine Harris. Touchstone Pictures owns the movie which is based on Shakespeare's TAMING OF THE SHREW. I lay no claim to any of them and hope no one sues me for using them.

**Summary:**Pam takes a fancy to a young man who is only allowed to date if his sister does and persuades her maker to help her out.

.o0o.

He was lost in her eyes, such beautiful ice blue eyes that chilled and thrilled him like no woman had done before. And, oh boy, had he stared into the eyes of a lot of women.

"You will be on my arm that night," her veiled voice commanded him, and he was too overpowered by her to dispute it. "You will wear a tux. You would look good in a tux. And you will bring me flowers. I believe orchids are the current trend. I like pink."

He could feel himself floating. He did so love it when she pulled him in like this. He could give up his will completely, submit to her every demand, and no one would think him any the less of a man for it.

Then it hit him. He blinked, and the glamour vanished. "Awww, shit, Pam! I can't!"

Pam's face was like stone, but he just knew she was fuming.

"I'm not allowed out after eleven. Gran will go batshit-crazy." He looked at his watch. His shoulders sank as he opened the car door.

"Jason Stackhouse! You are twenty-nine years old. When are you going to become a man?"

The things they had been doing against the side of his pick-up truck were not the things a little boy did, Jason told himself, but he didn't argue with her. What would be the point? He sighed, climbed in, and drove off.

Pam shook her head. "Bloody humans!" She smiled, and her fangs glistened in the moonlight. "Mmmm, bloody humans." And she sped off into the night to find a human to make bloody.

.o0o.

He was staring into the mouth of a shotgun, his pulse racing faster than it had done at any point that day, and Pam had made it race pretty fast!

"Is this what you want to see as you leave this world, Jason Stackhouse?"

"Sweet Jesus, Gran!"

"Do you think any one of the fathers around here will forgive you if you defile their daughters? Well, do you? And there will be _no_ blasphemy in my house! Do you understand me?" Her one eye was closed, and the other trained down the barrel as her bony, arthritic fingers quivered on the trigger. She sure meant business.

Sookie, clutching her book, emerged from the lounge casually, and kissed her Gran on the cheek as though she had seen this interaction a thousand times. She had. Maybe not a thousand, but it was a recurring scene in the Stackhouse saga.

"Hey, Gran, hey, Jase. Anyone want anything from the kitchen?" she blithely asked as she left them to it.

"It's a vamp bar, Gran, please! The party doesn't really start until after eleven. And there won't be any pregnant girls at the end of it, I swear. Please, Gran!" He carefully placed two fingers on the barrel and applied a little pressure. Not enough to be forceful, but enough to suggest it was time he stopped fearing his Gran might have actually loaded it this time.

The gun lowered, and Jason grabbed it. She put her frail arms around him. "You know I love you, Jason. I just want the best for you. But while you live under _my_ roof, you'll abide by _my_ rules. That's no girls, and no staying out past eleven." For a weak old woman she had one heck of a bite, figuratively speaking, of course.

Sookie returned from the kitchen, sipping her sweet tea.

"Why is it always me? Why doesn't she get the gun barrel treatment?" he moaned.

"Why would I want to date, Jase? Men are pigs." She took another sip and headed to the lounge to carry on with her book.

Gran smiled. "I have a little plan for you, honey," she said, smiling sweetly at her grandson. "You can go to this vamp bar ..."

Jason pumped the air.

"... if she does." Gran patted him on the cheek as she jerked her head slightly in the direction Sookie had gone.

"Aww, Jesus, Gran!" His shoulders drooped and his head flopped forwards. "She ain't never gonna date. No man's _good enough_ for her. Or quiet enough."

Gran slapped him upside the head. "No blasphemy!"

.o0o.

"Do you have a date?"

"Pam, it's on the twenty-first, you know this," Eric replied, not looking up from his paperwork. Why was she bothering him with this pathetic party again?

"I mean a piece of meat to hang off your arm." She handed him the next document.

After reading it with vampiric speed, he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "I do not see a need to pre-book. Who would not drop everything to be seen with me?" Who indeed? He was tall, gorgeous, powerful ... and utterly immodest.

She passed him some more papers. "Good, because I have found you someone."

He covered his laugh well, but a little escaped. His child had what could only be described as interesting taste in women. It was interesting because they were always interested… in her.

"It would be a sort of favor, for me." She continued, "I have a lovely creature to accompany me - delightful, in fact; smells of honey, juniper berries, sunshine, and just a hint of fairy. But, pathetically, he can't come unless his sister does. So there you go, I have solved your problem for you."

_Ah, Pam_, he thought, _how dull these last centuries would have been without you_. _You and your ..._ "You said his sister. Pam, are you telling me you are bringing a human... man?"

If it had been possible for Pam to blush, she may well have done so. It had been many decades since a man had been more than a meal to her, and this alone was enough to raise his interest, but there was another matter that was worth raising.

He sat back, kicked his legs onto the desk, laced his fingers together, and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. He smirked. "So what is she like, this sister? Does she also smell of fairy?"

.o0o.

The bell tinkled, and Terry cried, "Order up!"

Sookie shimmied on over and picked up table five's order. She hated shimmying, but it brought in the tips, as did the make-up, the fluttering eye-lashes, and the "Crazy Sookie" smile she forced on her lips.

_Why, I'd like to see them fine lips wrapped around the head of my ..._

_I wonder if her collar and cuffs match. I wonder if she even has collar and cuffs ..._

_Sweet Baby Jesus! What I wouldn't do to be holdin' them cheeks as I slide my ..._

As she walked past tables ten, eleven, and three, she did her best to ignore their thoughts while quietly changing to herself, "Men are pigs. Men are pigs." And she tried to force down the mental barriers to keep the constant, monotonous drone of customers' sexual or hateful thoughts from her mind.

She handed out the meals of grease-soaked goodness to her table, smiled her crazy smile, and asked, "Now is there anything else I can get y'all?" Of course there wasn't. She was the perfect waitress because all her customers had to do was think, although for some of them that was a real challenge.

Sookie felt the cool relief of a blank mind walk into Merlotte's Bar and Grill.

Bill.

A second followed close behind. _Interesting_, she thought, _or maybe not. Just another vampire who wants to sink his "long hard fangs" into my "temptingly pulsating neck."_ Sookie had read a lot of romance novels written by both humans and vampires, and they all thought the same way.

Pigs! All of them!

"Hey, Bill," she chirped at him. She'd liked him for a little while, almost charmed by his polite, old-fashioned ways. Almost, but not quite. "Who's your friend?"

If it had been possible for Bill to stiffen any more, he would have, but he was about as stiff as a walking corpse could get already, so he just frowned a stonier frown. "He's not my friend, Sookie." He seemed to give considerable thought to the phrasing of what came next. "I suppose you might call him my boss."

"And does your _boss_ have a name?" Sookie beamed the beam of an orthodontist's wet dreams at the tall, blonde, and very annoyingly handsome stranger.

"I'm Eric. Eric Northman." He flashed a cheeky fang and winked at her. She ignored it and carried on smiling her crazy, crazy smile.

"So what'll y'all be havin'? We only got TruBlood, but we do have all the blood groups in at the moment. Did you want B-positive as usual, Bill?" She found that ironic, and yes, she knew what ironic meant; she did read. Bill, being positive, ha.

Bill nodded.

"What's your blood type … Sookie?" Eric paused as he looked at her name tag.

"Erm…" Sookie found that quite sweet. No one had asked her that before. "O-negative."

"Mmmm." Eric closed his eyes and sniffed - somewhat like a dog, in Sookie's opinion. Then, with his intense, sky blue eyes staring straight into hers, he said, "Sweet and delicious, and quite rare. Everyone wants you, but you can't have just anyone. I would like a bottle of O-negative." His smile, before cheeky, was now just creepy.

"Coming right up," she said, tapping her pencil on her pad. She turned on her heel and marched to the bar.

Yep, all pigs.

.o0o.

"What are you failing to tell me, Bill?" Eric asked. He didn't know Bill all that well. Sure, they'd crossed paths a few times over the last century and change, but Eric didn't class him as "nest" material, so he paid Bill just enough attention to ensure a stake was not aimed at his own heart. He took a sip from his bottle of lukewarm not-really-blood-at-all, and he stared at his younger counterpart.

"Nothing. I'm mainstreaming."

Eric snorted. "So you said. Isn't that nice." He sipped again. By Odin, this was foul. "But you are lying. So. What are you failing to tell me?"

He watched Bill watching Sookie. It was pathetic, really. Bill was acting like the vampire equivalent of a hungry puppy dog, watching a walking bone that still had lumps of sumptuous meaty bits clinging to it. And those were just her breasts. Yes, Eric conceded, she was a fine figure of a woman.

"You have not taken your eyes off her, Bill. Your presence here seems not to draw attention, unlike mine, so I assume you visit this bar regularly. She is walking around, and you are drinking this …" Eric raised his bottle and looked at it with disgust. "… beverage. So, I ask again, what are you failing to tell me?"

Bill sighed. After more than one hundred and fifty years, he was still so human. "The Queen wants her."

"And that is why you moved here!" Eric was furious, but he did nothing to show it. Bill Compton had been under his jurisdiction for more than three months. He should have been informed of this.

Bill nodded. "I had kin here. I was the obvious choice." He took a sip from the pep-talk-in-a-bottle and licked the remnants from his lips like a cat lapping up the last of the cream from its fur. Eric cringed at how comfortable the young vampire was with this bottled crap. What had happened to traditional values, like a chat over the old times while sharing something fruity, with a good nose and full body?

"I made contact a few days after my arrival. I was almost detained by a couple of drainers, but Sookie warned me about them, and I managed to throw them off." He was embarrassed, Eric noted. Good. He should be. "I have engaged her in conversation and requested the pleasure of her company on walks, but she denies me."

"And you are not vampire enough to glamour her?"

Bill's eyes confronted his superior. "I have tried. She does not …" He again searched for his words. "Her talents make her different. You can try, but I doubt you will succeed."

Her breasts made her unaffected to glamour? Eric found this hard to believe. "Her talents? What can she do?" Eric's mind momentarily wandered off with images of a talented blond waitress wrapping her talented tanned thighs around his shoulders and her talented lips around his oh-so-very-much-more-than-talented cock. Her pencil, the end of which was currently between her teeth, was far too short and thin to satisfy.

Bill must have been anxious about providing Eric with even more information, because the pause was perceptibly human in length. Thankfully Eric's mind was more agreeably engaged; he was meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine breasts on the figure of a pretty woman can bestow. He snapped out of it quickly, however, when Bill finally spoke up.

"She's a telepath."

Eric nearly choked on his last mouthful of synthetic goop, which momentarily fascinated him, as the lack of a need to breathe meant choking was impossible.

"You will leave. Now."

Bill downed the remains of his TruBlood and left.

.o0o.

Sookie walked over to where the lone vampire sat, having checked briefly to make sure her other tables wanted for nothing.

"Can I get you another one? Eric?" she asked him. She was polite but to-the-point. She didn't know him, and she was very sure she wanted it to remain that way.

He caught her gaze with his and held it. She felt a slight tugging on the back of her mind, and she mentally swatted it away.

"You came over to say _hi,_" he said with an irritating confidence.

"No, I didn't." She was terse. She had headed over to ask if he wanted another drink, which she had done.

"Not a big talker?" Sookie wondered what the small talk was about; it was making her feel uncomfortable and just a little bit antsy.

"Well, that depends on the topic. Your drink of choice, or a vampire's annoying habit of glamouring everyone they meet, doesn't whip me into a verbal frenzy." Sookie stared him down. She knew exactly what he'd tried to do. Bill had tried it many times before. She conceded, however, that she was impressed at the strength of Eric's pull.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Eric leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and stared at her with a look that was trying to be intimidating, but Sookie felt it failed on too many counts.

"Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?" The moment the words left her lips, she realized what a dangerous game she might be playing. He was a vampire, and while the vampire community as a whole did seem to be trying to integrate with humans, there would always be the occasional disappearance that looked mighty suspicious.

Eric sat back, pleasure and mirth in his eyes. "Most people are."

"Well, I'm not." She thought that if she said it out loud it would be true, and besides, she was bored now. This was dragging out far longer than she'd hoped.

"Maybe you're _not_ afraid of me, but I'm sure you're thinking about me naked," he smirked, so very sure of himself.

"Is it that obvious?" She sighed and rolled her eyes. Sookie gave him credit for actually saying the words out loud; most men only thought them at her.

But Eric was not giving up. "There's a private gathering, a party of sorts, in Shreveport. Can I tempt you to be my guest?" He had turned the charm dial to full throttle. It was hard not to genuinely smile at him, to be taken in by the glint of his eye or impressed by the size of his fangs, but she stiffened her resolve and refused to relent.

"Thank you, Mr. Northman, but I think it's real likely I'll be washing my hair." She was not going to give him any further opportunity to talk to her; she turned on her heal and went to see to her other tables.

When Sookie finally returned to where he had been sitting, there was a hundred dollar bill tucked under one of the bottles of TruBlood. For a brief moment, she felt as though she was being bought. It was such a huge tip, but she reasoned with herself, had she not put up with enough sleaze over the years to warrant a little recognition? And given that Eric was Bill's boss, he could surely afford it.

.o0o.

Eric stood outside the church hall, steeling himself before he would have to walk in.

Poetry readings. Ugh!

He had almost recoiled in horror when Pam had relayed the message from Jason that Sookie enjoyed these meetings, that she would be here, that Bill occasionally turned up to try to impress her. He was unsure which was more unpalatable: Sookie's enjoyment or Bill's simpering attempts to woo her. When the realization hit him that he, too, would be attending this _evening of entertainment,_ his head had flopped forward into his hands. The things he did for his child.

Finding that he could not bring himself to suffer the pain of a hick reciting an ode to her cat, he waited for it to finish, and the attendees to trickle out. He picked out her car. It was a statement to the world and suited her so very well. She probably used the excuse that replacing it would be too expensive, but he was sure, even so, she could take better care of it. Her car said, "I really don't care what you think," and it said it loud and clear. Leaning against it, he waited.

Sookie bounded out of the hall, merrily chatting to a friend. The back of her head caught his eye first; her blond locks, the same color as his own, seemed to hold traces of sunlight, even under the dull glow of the fluorescent lights. Waves of joy and enthusiasm radiated from her, to the point of being infectious.

As she turned to approach him, her mood fell away. He could feel her scowl boring deep into his chest. Eric was here for one reason, and one reason only; he reminded himself that he could put up with a woman with constant PMS for a couple of weeks. After all, he had put up with Pam for centuries.

He crossed his arms across his chest and readied himself for the attack.

"Are you following me?" she snapped at him. "If you plan on trying to chat me up again, you might as well get it over with. I want to get home at some point tonight."

"I arrived late. I did not want to interrupt the flow." He smiled, remembering the pain of listening to the drivel. Who knew that a woman's cat could evoke so many words, which spewed from her like undigested pot roast? "It was no Wordsworth, but she made you question your very soul, don't you think?"

Her laugh was sarcastic and somewhat bitter. "You have a soul? And Maxine Fortenberry's ode to her cat made you question it?"

She was quick, she was prickly, she was very, very irritating. But she was also stunningly voluptuous, he conceded, and fun; he had not had to chase his prey so mercilessly for many decades, possibly centuries, and he had to admit he was enjoying the challenge.

"I admit it was not what I would refer to as poetry. I enjoyed the company of Keats and Shelly, when poetry went hand in hand with absinthe and laudanum—fed off a friend of a friend of Byron's once and watched my hand move for hours." Eric wondered why he was admitting this to the blond waitress before him who smelled of sunshine and fresh soap, but she appeared to be hanging on his every word. He smiled at her, judging the level of his smile to perfection; just a little seduction, laced with maudlin and tenderness. "Come to the party with me tomorrow."

Sookie's lips twitched into a slight smile, despite the rolling of her eyes. "You never give up, do you?"

He knew he was winning this little game. "That's not a no, is it?"

She gave him a slight laugh. Her body language was defensive, but the scents wafting from her all hinted at flirtation.

Opening the door to her car, she nudged him away.

"I'll pick you up at 11:00."

She drove off, and he headed back to reassure his child that tomorrow night, Pam would be able to play with her new toy.

.o0o.

Jason snuck down the stairs and had masterly avoided all the steps that creaked. He breathed a sigh of relief as he put his foot down on the rug in the hallway. He eyed the route ahead of him and planned the next few steps to ensure his stealth would enable his escape.

He felt a slight pressure against his shoulder and heard an ominous click.

"Should have used the window!"

Jason froze.

"Gran…" he laughed nervously. "I'm … errr … well …" He turned to face her and found himself once again eye-to-eye with the hammer-lock shotgun. He tried to control the mind-numbing fear that was bringing him very close to needing a new pair of pants. "If you must know, I'm going to join a small study group of friends."

Gran jabbed the shotgun into his shoulder. "Don't take me for a fool, Jason. You left school years ago, and you didn't study back then!"

His shoulders slumped. "Aww, c'mon, Gran, it's just a party."

"And hell is just a sauna!"

Jason cringed as his saintly sister sprang down the stairs in an old pair of jeans and a once-black t-shirt that was now faded to gray. . She kissed Gran on the cheek and smiled at them with amusement.

"Do you know anything about a party?" Gran asked, keeping her eye trained down the barrel. Sookie just shrugged.

"Sookie, can't you just for once be normal? Please do this for me. Please!" Jason did feel that begging was beneath him as the man of the house, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He tried so very hard to remember if there had ever been a time when she had sided with him against Gran, if he had ever managed to appeal to her sympathetic side. He failed to recall even one such instance, so he tried the big-blue-eye approach that worked a treat on half of the women of Bon Temps.

She seemed to give it a few moments' thought, weighing up the possibility that she might potentially have some fun, a concept Jason wasn't sure his sister had ever truly grasped.

"Oh, fine, I'll make an appearance."

Forgetting that the shotgun was still trained on him, Jason danced the dance of a happy man, nudging the barrel a few too many times for comfort.

The doorbell rang, and in her surprise and acceptance, Gran lowered the gun as she opened the door to be greeted by a dashing, tall blonde.

The blond giant was all politeness. "Mrs. Stackhouse, a pleasure to meet you." He tilted his head to look around Gran and caught Sookie's eye. "I am early, I apologize. Shall we?" He waved his hand towards his beautiful red car, which was so much more than a car. It was an orgasm on four wheels.

"Whatever. Jason, I'm calling shotgun," Sookie said with a slight laugh as she grabbed her tatty coat, kissed Gran on the cheek once more, and gave the guy at the door an exasperated glance.

Jason whooped. For the first time in his twenty-nine years, he was going to be staying out past midnight. While most men might feel ashamed that it had taken this long for their freedom to be given to them, Jason was just too drunk on the thoughts of all the fun that lay ahead of him. He jumped into the rear seat and settled down for what felt like the ride of his life.

Gran stood in the doorway, waving her charges off, the shotgun resting with the butt on the floor and the muzzle on the doorpost. Just as the Corvette started up, there was a thump of metal on wood, followed by an unmistakable boom.

Sookie whipped round to see that Gran was still there, a little shaken, but waving and unhurt. The porch was going to need some work, however.

Jason just stared straight ahead. That shotgun had been loaded, always loaded. He gulped. Then he whispered, "I think I need to fetch a change of pants."

.o0o.

Once through the doors of the beautiful three story house, Jason was greeted by Pam, and the pair of them vanished from view.

Sookie had continued to resist his charms for the entire journey. Her mood had been tense as her fingers dug into the leatherwork of the seats, her eyes wide. Eric had tried to discuss topics that she might like, but he got no feedback. He had asked questions which she only evaded. Finally, he had resorted to silence. The battle to get her to the party had been won, but the war to keep her placated was going to be long and painful.

He had not had chance to claim her, to tell those around him that she was his. He was sure she would object strongly to being labeled and that it would make his task even harder, but for her safety it had to be done.

Her eyes had rested on Bill the instant she had walked into the hallway, where he stood schmoozing - if such a word could be used to describe Bill's actions—with Lorena, his maker. Eric felt a temptation to tell Sookie of the relationship between the two vampires, the odd obsession they had for one another. Her eyes had narrowed and lips thinned, and before he could say a word, she had grabbed a full shot glass from the nearest tray and downed its contents.

Eric meant to warn her, he meant to protect her of the dangers of her surroundings, but she had slipped in amongst the willing donors with another full shot glass, and he lost her. He found the sensation of a need to protect her most irritating. She was just another meal … possibly a very tasty meal, but a meal nonetheless.

Despite the party atmosphere, Eric found himself attending to business matters, answering questions on area issues and taking pledges of fealty from vampires new to the area. He found himself hungry, and a very attractive and happy meal was introduced to him by one of his retinue, but the idea of sinking his fangs into someone who was not Sookie was somewhat disappointing. He went in search of her.

There was music, if you could call it that, pumping out of the dining room, and her scent, mixed heavily with alcohol, was riding out on the sound waves. Entering the room, he was greeted by images that he felt sure were fueled by some drug-induced blood he had consumed, but he had not fed, so he did his best to accept the reality of what was before him.

Sookie was on the table.

Cavorting.

Shaking her booty.

And oh, was it a fine booty.

He had never imagined she could be like this. So relaxed, so sexual, so … loose! His anger surged within him. He had not laid claim, and he was glad to see that she had not given anyone else the chance to do so either, but she was displaying her goods like a prize cow at market. She was his, or she very soon would be. Had she no decorum?

Her steam ran out, and she collapsed. He caught her, held her close, breathed her in, and felt a sense of relief. Eric stood tall and addressed all around him. "Mine!"

No one argued.

He carried her out into the deserted garden and sat her on a chair some way from the house. The cool evening air had no effect on him, but Eric hoped that it might help sober her up a little. He found himself oddly anxious about taking her back to her grandmother's house in her current state. He gently stroked the back of her head and wondered what had happened in her past to make her so uptight.

Sookie's command of her limbs was no better than a rag doll, but she was at least still talking. "Why are you doing this?" She tried to look in his eyes, but her head lolled to the side.

"I sell alcohol to humans, I know it is poison." Eric smirked at her as she flopped forward, and he swiftly but gently helped her sit back into the chair.

"You don't care if I never wake up," she slurred, jabbing her finger into his muscular stomach and looking frustrated but impressed at his physique.

"If you failed to wake up, I would have to start looking at girls who actually like me. Do you know how tedious that is?"

"If you could find one!" Despite her inebriated state, she was still quick, and Eric was pleased to hear the tone of her voice was softening. No! No, he was not pleased. To be pleased would mean he was feeling something for her; this would mean a weakness. But there was something interesting about her nearness, her presence, which he could not quite define.

"Oh, see, that, there, who needs adoration when _I_ have blind hatred?" He could play this game: casual insult tennis. He had had enough practice with his child. Sookie was sharp, but Pam could cut herself. "Why do you let him get to you?"

She sighed and looked a little pained. "Who? Bill? I don't trust him. I think he has an ulterior motive." Eric partly regretted asking the question, but he had very much wanted to hear that answer; to know that she was observant and had a sense of self preservation comforted him.

He chuckled at her. "Well, you seem to have found the perfect revenge: mainlining tequila."

She snickered with him. They were getting along.

"Hey, you've got the most beautiful blue eyes." Smiling at him, Sookie brushed the hair from her shoulder with a single finger in a move that would have been seductive if she had not been so wobbly. Leaning her head to one side, she made a blatant offer of her jugular to him. He knew that his goal should be to sink his fangs into her pulsating neck, but instead he found himself sated simply by her smile.

He shook himself. He wanted her to want him; he wanted her to want him without the addition of alcohol. "We need to get you home."

Anger washed over her eyes that were locked with his, followed very quickly by pain and confusion.

She leaned forward and emptied the contents of her stomach on his shoes.

There would be a double punishment for this humiliation. Pam would be replacing his shoes tomorrow. _After_ she had cleaned them.

.o0o.

Holding out a new pair of hand-made Italian leather shoes to him, she stared straight ahead at the office wall. It was a light chastisement for his failure, but Pam felt it sent a message. "And I quote: She hates you with the fire of a thousand suns." She looked at him, and the corners of her lips twitched upwards briefly. His lack of success irked her, but the fact that he had met his match was delightfully amusing. "Apparently, you bite. I knew this already, but I have been assured that it doesn't mean you actually bite. Why do humans have to be so obtuse?"

Eric took the shoes from her and pretended to inspect them closely. "She'll calm down in a day or two," he reassured her.

"Ha! A thousand years, and we are still a mystery to you." She shook her head at him and left him to his deluded beliefs about women.

.o0o.

It was the 11th, a week after the replacement of his shoes, and still no contact had been made; surely an apology for ruining his footwear should have been forthcoming by now.

Pam had suggested, or rather demanded, that he apologize to Sookie; apparently it was only "right and proper" as per the directions of Dear Abby. And so he had stood outside Merlotte's, her work place, for three nights, listening to her interact with friends and customers, building up an understanding of her hopes and desires, what made her happy or frustrated, what made her delightful blood race.

On the fourth night, he entered and sat down at the same table he had occupied a couple of weeks earlier. She looked up from the table she was serving, excused herself to them, and marched over to him.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was out of TruBlood." It was a little white lie, but he couldn't tell her Pam had sent him, and he did not want to tell her that he wanted to be sent.

She sighed and shook her head at him. "You're so …"

"Charming!" He cocked his head at her and seductively waggled his eyebrows. "Desirable?"

"Unwelcome." She walked off to the bar in a huff. Sookie returned a few minutes later with a bottle of O-negative, which she slammed in front of him.

"You're not as mean as you think you are, Sookie," he told her a little forcefully. She should have apologized, but it was not forthcoming. He was not going to put up with this sort of childish behavior without saying something.

"And _you're_ not the scary monster _you_ pretend to be," she spat at him.

The frustration of this woman! Eric was seething. "Someone has her panties in a twist."

"Do not think, Mr. Northman, that you ever had any effect on my panties!" She slapped the bill on the table beside his drink and stormed off.

.o0o.

"You were right, she's still angry."

Pam cackled. She loved hearing him say those words: "You were right." In her two hundred and fifty years, he had used them sparingly, and she knew that when they were spoken, she needed to concoct the plan of action because _he_ had failed.

"She is embarrassed. She offered herself to you, and you turned her down. Dear Abby suggests that in situations like these, you sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity. And I know _just_ the thing!"

The look of horror and fear on Eric's face was something she would treasure for the rest of her (hopefully) very long existence.

.o0o.

It was Wednesday. For Gran and Sookie that meant shopping day: a half hour at the kitchen table planning out the menu for the week, listing all the ingredients, then a trip to Piggly Wiggly to stock up the pantry. They had done this together for years. Jason used to feel left out of this little ritual until he insisted on joining them and discovered it to be so indescribably dull that he was happy to label it "women's work."

Over the intercom a call came for all available staff to man the check-outs; it was a busy evening. They were three quarters of the way through their shopping list when the experience started to drift away from what either would have expected.

The intercom crackled into life again with the sound of someone blowing on the microphone.

"You're just too good to be true ..." The voice was deep and melodious, and Sookie recognized it in a heartbeat.

"Can't take my eyes off of you ..." She froze, her hand on her grandmother's arm. Gran looked at her with concern.

"You'd be like heaven to touch ..." A deep rosy glow blossomed in her cheeks, and her grandmother's knowing smile was filled with warmth.

"I want to hold you so much. I see that love is ahead ..." Sookie was unaware that every person in the store had stopped their evening's activity and were looking around for the cause of this spontaneous, free show.

"And I'm so glad I'm undead ..." She was equally unaware that anyone within staring distance of her had now rested their eyes on her.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you!" If the ground had opened up in the middle of Piggly Wiggly right then and there and swallowed her whole, it would not have been soon enough. Just as she thought she could not be more embarrassed, the Grambling State Marching Band, dressed in their full regalia, joined the singer in the parking lot. She caught a brief view of the show taking place, before the other shoppers rushed to press their noses up against the windows to see it for themselves.

Sookie's emotions swung from deeply embarrassed, to impressed that anyone would put on such a display for her, to wanting to vanish from the face of the earth, to a fondness for this vampire that she was not sure she was ready to feel.

The band played on, and Eric burst through the doors of the store.

"I love you, baby! And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm my lonely nights. I love you, baby! Trust in me when I say …" To his credit, Eric was giving her the performance of a lifetime. She had no choice but to laugh at his antics as he swooped around the store, landing on top of the shelving to perform a short dance routine. He had practiced; she was touched.

He ended his song and dance with flourish and flair, landing at her feet, jazz-hands shaking furiously. The grin on his lips was manic but fun, and Sookie believed that he had thoroughly enjoyed making a fool of himself, although she was sure he'd deny it if asked.

Gran put a hand on Sookie's arm. "I think you should go and have a quiet word with this young gentleman. He's earned that right, at least. Don't you think?" Sookie was amused at her grandmother's insistence on calling everyone who looked younger than herself a young man or lady. She was unsure of Eric's age, but she was convinced he had a few years on Gran.

Sookie sighed in defeat and let herself be wrapped in Eric's arms, and the two of them flew out of the store.

They landed in a secluded spot, just a very short walk from the store. Sookie found herself enjoying holding onto the tall and beautiful vampire, and she was more than a little reluctant to let go. Eric smirked at her and planted a soft and tender kiss on her cheek.

Sookie's blush returned and rose through her entire body. She released her grip on his chest but did not back away. Her heart was racing, her palms clammy, and she lifted her doe-like eyes to meet his with a look that said, "You are definitely having an effect on my panties now."

He wrapped his arm around her waist. Putting his giant, bear-size hand on the small of her back, he kissed her deeply, and she let him. They stood there, locked in a fluid pose, their bodies melting into one another. Sookie could feel _exactly_ how happy he was that she was yielding to him, and she knew that it was evoking a strong sense of ease, contentment, and even urgency in herself.

He eased himself away. "Come to the Masked Ball with me."

In her lust, she was frustrated their lips were no longer touching, but tried not to be irritated with him. Instead she pouted and asked, "Is that a request or a demand?"

"Come with me, be my honored guest," he said, repeating his command again. And it _was_ a command; his body had stiffened and his voice had become more powerful, both made Sookie uncomfortable.

"Why are you pushing this?" she asked him, becoming somewhat suspicious. "What's in it for you?"

Eric looked away, but he failed to answer.

Sookie was enraged. Why did everyone have an ulterior motive? Why could someone not just like her for her? Why could she not let them close enough to try?

She ran off back to the Piggly Wiggly; frustrated with himself, Eric did not stop her.

.o0o.

On Thursday night, Sookie arrived home from work late. Her closing duties had not taken all that long, but Sam had offered her a drink, and she was grateful for it. Sam was a good friend. His mind was a fuzz of feelings, not words, which made him so much easier to be around, and she knew that if she didn't want to talk about something, he wouldn't push the subject. They had sat there, facing the bar, swigging their beers, saying nothing. It was bliss.

On walking through the back door of her family home, she had been greeted by Gran, who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading yet another trashy romance, just as she did every night. Sookie walked up, kissed the head of the woman she loved so much, and wished her a good night.

Gran put her hand tenderly on Sookie's arm. "You know, honey, I think your brother would be real grateful for a little talk right now. He's looking mighty low," she said with a warm smile.

Jason had been sure that at least one of the women in the house would change their minds before the big night, but it was now the big-night-eve, and he was no closer to his goal of being the perfect accessory for Pam. He was lollopped on his bed, languishing in his defeat and his misery when Sookie knocked on his door, and he mumbled for her to come in.

She picked up the remote from his bed and switched off his TV. Sitting on his window sill, she put on her best "big sister" expression, one she had used often and to great effect, despite being younger in years. "What's up, Jase?"

"Why do you do it? Why do you pretend to be a heartless bitch?" His words stung her. They had exchanged insults all their lives as any normal siblings did, but he had never cussed directly at her; even if he had occasionally thought it, the words had never before left his mouth.

"Ouch," was her only response. She blinked at him, exhaled a deep breath, and smiled sadly. "What is it you really want to know? Ask me, and I'll tell you."

He thought for a moment. She had never offered to be so open, and he could have asked her all sorts of questions, but at that moment only one sprang to mind. "Why don't you like Bill?"

Sookie had expected "Why won't you go to the party?" or "Can't you stop being so selfish?" or "Why won't you do this for me?" Those questions she would have been all too happy to answer with another shouting match and a "get bent," but the words that had left Jason's lips suggested that her brother paid more attention to her life than she ever thought possible. She took a few more deep breaths and released them slowly. "I don't trust him," she said simply, but knew her brother deserved a little more detail than just that. "When I first met him, I was real excited. My very first vampire, here in Bon Temps. But he just didn't fit right. He seemed all confused when I told him about the Rattrays, and them being drainers and all. Jason, he's over a hundred years old … surely he'd have a little more sense of preservation than that? And he'll be real nice around Gran and other folks, but more than once he has been a little less than gentlemanly in his _suggestions,_ and he's tried to make me drink his blood, which is just ick, by the way. I don't know, Jase, maybe he's just like any other man, but I just get the feeling that sometimes he's not interested in Sookie the woman, he's interested in Sookie the telepath, or … oh, I don't know. Just … Please don't tell Gran this."

Jason walked up to her and hugged her close. It was a comforting hug, one reserved for sisters whose love lives were nonexistent and a serious dose of sympathy was the only option, because bottles of wine and bars of chocolate were unavailable. "We won't go tomorrow, Sookie, and I won't mention it again. How about we get some beers and watch the game?"

Sookie laughed at him and punched him hard in the shoulder. She hated sports with a passion unfelt by even the most passionate of people, and her brother knew this very well. "Oh, fine! I'll go! But there is a condition!"

"Anything!" His excitement and gratitude would have allowed her to demand his balls on a plate, and he would have happily delivered them - not that Gran didn't already have him whipped—but she settled for the demand of what she called "the works." Sookie would spend the following day enjoying manicures, pedicures, hair treatments, and being bought a beautiful dress, all at Jason's expense. It was lucky for Jason that Sookie was not an overly demanding sister, but she was doing him a huge favor. It was only fair he paid her in kind.

.o0o.

Dressed in a tux, wishing he did not have to walk out there and settle for a bloodbag, he rested his weight on his old oak desk and stared blankly at the door.

He first knew of her arrival when she was shown into his office; her effortless natural beauty shone through her awkwardness and discomfort. The fragrance of fairy was so strong that he wondered if she had been rubbing herself up against one, a thought that both irritated and enticed him. He gripped the edge of the table to prevent himself from leaping on her and devouring her. Instead he let his eyes consume her, taking in every last inch.

"I'm real sorry I questioned your motives, I was wrong." She was genuinely humble about it, and he mentally kicked himself for maintaining his silence on the matter.

"When you look like that, how could I do anything but forgive you?" He was side-stepping the issue with elegance and seduction, but it made him feel a little less of a bastard.

"I forgot to give you this the other night before I ran off." Walking up to him slowly, showing off her curves to him with every step, she stopped just between his legs, swept her hair to the side, and exposed her sumptuously tanned neck. It was an unconscious action; she was not offering herself to him, but the fragrance of fresh sunshine, mixed with fairy and no perfume, made his desires rise to the fore. They made his pants damn uncomfortable, too.

He placed his hands firmly around her waist and pulled her to him forcefully, his fangs exposed, his need obvious. She made him catch his breath—breath he didn't need to take. With one of his delectably long fingers, he moved the shoe-lace strap of the dress off her shoulder and licked and kissed every soft, tender piece of flesh he could lay his eyes on.

Her delicate little moans and her lack of resistance spurred him on. He stroked her thigh, the action pooling the fabric of her dress at her waist. His finger caught in the side of her thong and he followed it around, cupping her smooth, voluptuous cheek in his hand.

Sookie leaned back from him, an action that gave him pause, but her hands found his buckle and removed his belt with the speed of a woman who was not prepared to let words confuse the situation.

A thong sailed across the office.

.o0o.

Arm in arm they made their entrance, the Sheriff and his lady. She chose not to hear the hateful thoughts of the humans around her, but if she had wanted them, they would have filled her head with bile and spite. Instead Sookie enjoyed the afterglow.

It turned out that relaxing and enjoying an evening in the company of her stunning companion was not so difficult after all. He was eager to keep her attention to himself, deflecting the interest of other vampires with minimum effort. Sookie was unfamiliar with vampire politics, but from the deference shown to her, she assumed that Eric was quite a big fish in this particular pond. She smiled to herself at the recent memory of exactly how big a fish he was in his own personal pond of one.

They sat together alone in a secluded booth, holding hands and sharing smiles. She wondered if she had ever felt so at ease, so whole, so … wanted. When he asked her to dance as a gentleman should, she blushed, took his outstretched hand, and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.

Pressed together, their bodies moved as one across the floor, which had suddenly emptied before them. Her eyes were fixed on his, and she knew that she would have to thank Jason for twisting her arm. Gran's face at the sight of the pair of them before they left for the evening had almost been worth all the fuss. Neither one of them had attended their school proms; this was the first time they had been dressed so fancy, and Jason did brush up real well.

Lost in the moment and in her lover's embrace, Sookie did not see Bill approach them. Eric halted their dance and nodded short and sharp at the dark haired vampire.

"Congratulations are in order. It seems that you have _tamed_ the shrew," Bill sneered, his intense eyes switching between Eric and Sookie as he spoke.

Eric pulled her close to him, spinning her as he did so, so that her back pressed against his chest. "She is mine!"

Sookie's eyes widened at this proclamation; she was her own woman, wasn't she?

Bill caught her expression and threw it back at Eric with a mocking distain. "Not for long. The Queen will be delighted that you have secured the telepath. I shall tell her to expect your attention shortly. Will you take her tomorrow?"

In that moment, her world fell away from her.

She knew Eric to be a sheriff, and it stood to reason that a Queen trumped him. Her feet were rooted to the spot. Words failed her as a single tear trailed down her cheek.

She had been played.

Jason saw the glint of the salty tear on his sister's face and stormed over. He had heard none of the exchange, but he knew enough of his sister to know that Bill's presence was not welcome. There was no thought behind his actions, no reasoning, just instinct as he pulled back his arm and threw his most forceful punch at the source of his sister's grief.

A human's speed is nothing to a vampire's. Bill caught Jason's fist and crushed it, forcing the human to his knees, his face contorted in agony.

Sookie cried out, struggled from Eric's grasp, and flung herself to her brother's side. She looked up at the tall blond vampire, searching his face for answers. "Have you nothing to say?"

"I do." A fist landed a disfiguring blow against Bill's face, sending the vampire flying across the room. He slammed into the wall, leaving a man-sized dent in the brickwork. "No one breaks my date!" Pam spat. "Other than me!" she conceded.

Sookie helped her brother to his feet and out of Fangtasia, leaving a silent Eric to watch her go.

.o0o.

It had been two weeks since he had lost her. Two weeks of bowing and scraping, of promises and forfeiture, of wanting and emptiness. Two weeks of regret, of words unspoken, of touches unfelt.

Eric stood outside the church hall, steeling himself before he would walk in. He could cope with the poetry, with Maxine's cat; he would ignore the stares and the snide words, and he would accept the single bottle of synthetic blood at an unappetizing temperature, but he questioned how she would respond to him. A woman's response had never given him pause before, but Sookie was … well, the word "special" covered it, but it was clichéd and did not satisfy.

Through the doorway he heard her name announced, and he snuck in quietly. He rested his back against the rear wall and gazed at her. Her hair was pulled back into a tight knot, she was wearing old jeans and a white v-necked tee, and her chipped pink-painted toenails clung onto her flip-flops with every step. She looked tired and saddened, but strong and every bit as perfect as she had on the night of the ball.

"Hi, y'all," she greeted the room, a shy smile on her lips as she braced herself. "Now, y'all know I don't like to read up here, but I want to share this. It's not exactly Shakespeare, but … anyway …" She took a deep breath and began.

"It bites, the way you talk to me and the way you wear your hair. It bites, the speed you drive your car. It bites when you just stare." She looked up from her paper and caught his eye and briefly froze.

"It bites that you look so darn hot and that you seem to read _my_ mind. It bites so much it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme. It bites …" Sookie was losing her composure. Whether it was his presence or her reasons for writing this god-awful poem in the first place, he did not know, but he did know that if she would have accepted his comfort, it would have been hers in an instant.

She regained her voice, albeit somewhat cracked and emotional, and continued. "It bites, you think you're always right; it bites when you tell lies. It bites when you make me laugh; even worse when you make me cry. It bites when you're not around, and the fact you didn't call." She lifted her head and stared him out. "But mostly it bites, the way you don't bite – not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all."

Sookie folded her paper, tucked it into her back pocked and returned to her seat, where she quietly sobbed on her friend's shoulder.

.o0o.

He was waiting for her again, just as he had done the last time, resting his giant frame on the hood of her car. It was all well and good for him. He could probably afford to remove dents from his bodywork, but she was somewhat less financially comfortable.

"I have nothing to say to you," she told him as she approached.

"You do not have to say a thing. I came to tell you that you have nothing to fear from us." He uncrossed his ankles and stood upright, not to be intimidating, but to give his words the authority they deserved. "I have spoken to the Queen, and I have done everything within my power to secure you the freedom to be who and where you want to be." She would never know the pains and troubles he had gone to to ensure this, and he would never tell her. "I hope you will forgive me, and if you can, I hope you will, one day, let me enjoy your company again."

Craning her neck to look up at him, Sookie wished he'd go back to denting the hood.

"I don't know, Eric, I trusted you. I'm going to need time to think about it. Maybe I'll have a better idea of how I feel …" She smiled softly at him. "After our next date?"

"Friday?"

She nodded in agreement. "Friday."

.o0o.

The End


End file.
